The Detention Squad HD Remix
by godoftentaclehentai69
Summary: They're finally back
1. Chapter 1

The Detention Squad

HD Remix

Chapter 1

In the pale of 6:00 AM near the southern entrance of Whitney High School lingered a black shadow long forgotten in the minds of the students. Behind him stood a gathering of naked figures not all that different from the shadow in demeanor. The ghost of the past stood anxiously, overshadowed by his peers in physical height.

"Now is the time, my fellow nigras," boomed the tiny figure as he readied his glock, "Time to teach this school about some _real_ goddamn diversity."

His followers shouted in agreement as they all rushed in through the double doors of the school. Corn dogs and twinkies ablaze, they readily decimated the front corridor. In the midst of all the chaos, the cloaked figure gave a gay little giggle and took of his outer robe to reveal the face of the most notorious shoe-stepper around.

The immensely proud Tyson Kemp made his way across the lockers on the west side as his followers ravaged every other entrance. He stopped in his tracks when he realized the battered and bruised Mr. Kelly stood in his way.

"You won't get away with this, Tyson!" yelled Kelly in despair, "I'll push you and your goddamn race back 200 years if I have to!"

Tyson merely stepped over the bitter old man as he strolled across. "You won't even live to see the end of this decade, Kelly, mark my words. After I'm done teaching this school a lesson about inclusion, I will enslave your people and rewrite history. I'll create a crimson brown that not even you will be able to tarnish. It's fuckin' payback time, Kelly."

What Tyson did not notice as he walked away was Kelly reaching into his pocket to bring out his transceiver. "Goddamnit, Spratt. Where the hell are you when we actually need you?" Not that the other end of the line was completely silent, course.

There wasn't much panic in the office. This was due to it being completely barricaded with the strongest element ever created: skateboards. The office aids piled in to Spratt's office for some sign of hope.

"Ah, shit…" moaned Spratt as a pool of blood began to form from under his chair. "I can't fight!" It appeared Spratt had failed at shaving his legs this morning. A perfect ballet man such as Spratt would be dishonored were he to prance around in this state.

"Then what the hell do we do?" asked the confused Kelemen.

"The only people actually ready for this shit this early in the morning are _them_."

"Who exactly are you referring to, sir?"

"The Detention Squad."

They had to speak pretty damn loudly to overtake the noise of the barricade pounding with anger. Right outside this barricade appeared the prodigal Taekwondo student Christian Balbido.

"You're not getting away from me this time, you filipino fuck."

The unsuspecting Balbido looked hastily around him to spot the source of this echoing voice. He only had time to glance around for about five seconds before the fresh out of prison Bill Cosby appeared behind him.

"Now, stay still, child," whispered Bill.

Christian could only yelp, "Shoot!" while he was being strangled and force fed Ketamine straight out of the pill bottles.

Just as the child felt like he was about to lose consciousness, a man of another distinguishable shade of brown swooped in with a roundhouse kick aimed at Cosby's forehead.

"Diggly dick crack yiff."

It appeared the kick had managed to crush the skull of the famous serial rapist.

"It's been a while, little _filipequeño_."

"Wh-"

Christian didn't really have a chance to finish his sentenced before being shoved to the

corner by the man who just happened to save his life.

"Be quiet, sped," warned the mysterious mexican, "There's somebody coming just behind here."

"But Brayan-"

The newly bearded glare was enough to put the prodigal son in his place.

"Looks like they're having an argument over there," murmured Brayan.

Across the hall was an unlikely pair arguing amongst the rubble.

"Tyson, you prick! You promised me some new recruits!"

"Establishing race dominance is our top priority, Kony! If you don't like it, then get out!"

"You fuck!"

Joseph Kony brandished his AK-47 and started firing in an instant, but to no avail. The Artesia trained Tyson dodged each and every single bullet before pulling out a glock of his own and assassinating Kony on the spot.

"Brayan, is the rest of the squad coming, too?"

"Sí. They should have gotten the call from Spratt. I'm not sure if I can beat Tyson by myself. In the little time I spent with him in Artesia, he learned a great deal. I wouldn't be surprised if he has surpassed me by now.

"I have, Brayan."

The two allies sat there shocked for almost a whole five seconds before turning around to see Tyson's grinning face.

"Tyson, the training I gave you was not meant for something like this!" It seemed Brayan had finally mustered the strength to speak.

"I don't care what you think anymore, Brayan. I still haven't forgotten that day you left me for dead. All that trickery just so you could abandon me for those two losers!"

"Noah and Jay are not to blame, Tyson! And neither am I! I sensed evil in your heart long ago."

"Whatever. That stunt is only a part of my motivation for this. The blacks and the mexicans have some very complicated history, Brayan."

While Tyson was busy making a speech, Christian slipped away unnoticed to prepare for his special spice kick.

Even before Christian landed the kick, he felt an itching on his leg. He fidgeted in a craze before realizing it was Tyson's almost-Jewfro that had cushioned him from the attack.

"Christian, haven't you ever wondered why your hair matches mine?"

"What?"

"It's because I made you, Christian!"

"Don't listen to him, Christian," interrupted Brayan, "He's trying to get into your head!"

"No...it can't be."

"That's right, Christian. I made you. Evan Balbido is merely a hoax made to help shelter you."

"You lie!" shouted a flustered Christian. In a fury, he dashed once more towards Tyson before toppling to the ground from a headbutt delivered by the angry black man.

"Christian! You idiot!" Brayan was also subdued with a hit on the back from Tyson's football helmet.

"I hoped," started a voice from behind them, "the pinger call would keep you gone for good, Tyson."

"Noah!" exclaimed Tyson with pleasure as he looked behind himself to see the Korean man. "I've been waiting for you!"

Unfortunately for Tyson, his conversation was once again cut short by a fireball aimed at his head.

"You...I thought I'd never have to see your face again." From the finance window appeared Jesus who had transformed into his Mario attire.

"Oh, I know what's coming next. The true brown is next, isn't he?" stated Tyson as he caught a fedora flying towards the nape of his neck.

"Damn. I haven't seen a black man of such strength ever since Delque's arrival here." The tipping Indian was there at the scene as well.

"Good, good. The whole squad's here! Well, almost, I mean. I'm guessing Clark couldn't be bothered to show up with the tortilla on the case?"

Brayan merely wiped a bead of sweat off his head. "Such a tragedy."

"Thanks to my Afro-American connections in Bender's class, I was able to pull off some of these!" proclaimed Tyson as he took out a box of negroid pills. With one swallow, his muscles began to ripple, and his skin tone matched that of the night sky. Tyson's shouts of pain from the ingestion echoed across the whole city while the Detention Squad stood there in shock.

What they were expecting after the transformation was a battle with an extremely powerful colored man, but they were instead graced by his sudden death. All that was stuck on his corpse was a tiny colored needle.

"But who?" wondered Noah as he looked across the hallway.

"They're most vulnerable in that stage of the transformation, you know," sighed a familiar voice. "The nigras, I mean. He left that artery completely unprotected."

"Hey, what race is this guy?" Brayan asked Noah.

"I got no fuckin' clue about his race. Marchant has remained racially ambiguous ever since his employment."

"Noah," began Marchant, "Since you're my TA, I feel like you should know this first."

"No!" screamed another voice in agony.

It was Mustillo hanging on to dear life as he clutched a wound on his stomach.

"Don't trust him, Noah! He's been after the school's hidden treasure ever since he got here!"

"What?" Noah was left confused as he looked from Marchant to Mustillo.

"You see, I knew that the blacks were going to attack Whitney," explained the devious Marchant.

" _Hijo de puta!_ You let all this bloodshed happen?!" Brayan's rage and confusion was held back only by the huge corpse separating the two parties.

"That's right. With such a large rebellion rushing through Whitney, I knew I would have a chance to snatch this away from the office." Marchant held up Briquelet's sports jacket. "For years, I have been tortured and teased for my lack of a racial affiliation. But this will change it all! With Tyson's death along with others I have stealthily slaughtered in this insurrection, I have collected enough nigra souls to add the insignia of the black men to this jacket, thus granting me all their powers! Of course, such a compilation made it all too easy. But I won't end there! I won't stop until I kill enough people from each and every race so I can collect their insignias and gain their attributes. Now, I may even be powerful enough to take all the Asian souls in Whitney!"

"Marchant, you sick fuck!" Mustillo could barely get any words out at all with his hacking and coughing going on.

"Well, I'll take my leave now."

Before the Detention Squad could unleash their respective projectiles onto Marchant, he managed to dash away with classic negro speed.

"Guys," moaned Mustillo as he stooped down to the floor with blood trickling down his chin, "We need to stop him."

"Pero, how the hell can we do that? Did you see how fast he ran?" commented Brayan.

"Please," Mustillo begged, "He came in here with such a convincing facade. I trained him. I raised him as if he were my own son. That damn physics major can't get away with such trickery! He fooled me with no remorse! You have to understand!"

The Detention Squad could only drag Mustillo's body to the infirmary before he fell unconscious atop many other black bodies. Even then, another crude figure had yet to reveal himself from the sidelines of the situation.

 **TO BE CONTINUED**


	2. Chapter 2

The Detention Squad

HD Remix

Chapter 2

"Did you take care of it?"

"Yeah. Those dumbass students all think he was fired for drugs."

"Good. Who the hell would have thought the new PE teacher was a Buss supporter?"

Briquelet and Spratt's campaign to get rid of all those who were still loyal to Rhonda Buss had not yet concluded, but they still had bigger problems. As Spratt walked out of the main office, he encountered a familiar slouched man with throat cancer.

"Give me my fucking job back, Craig!" yelled Jeans as he tugged at Spratt's collar.

"No goddamn chance, Derek. You suck at psychology."

"What?! I was the heart and soul of that subject, and you just give it to some bitch that backstabbed Garcia?"

"Tough titties, Jeans, but we already demoted the llama, so why would we do you any different?"

"Look, how about you give me my job back if I give you some information on Marchant?"

"Marchant?!" Craig's autistic eyeballs lit up at the sound of the name. Two weeks had passed since Eamon Marchant's insurrection after the black invasion, and yet no word had been heard regarding his location ever since. "Well, tell me already!"

"Last night, I was walking by the county prison when I saw somebody with Briquelet's jacket crash in through the brick walls. I saw his mouth moving, so I inched a little forward, and I saw the guy we locked up last year."

"What the hell? What would Marchant want with Raymond? You think they're both Buss supporters or something?"

"Beats the shit out of me. Now…" Jeans inched a little forward and singed Craig's eyebrows with his morning coffee seeping out of his mouth. "My job?"

"No, fuck you." Craig shoved Derek aside and move towards the west entrance as the washed up man cried in misery. However, Jeans was not done just yet. He pulled aside some random black kid and handed him a slip to call a certain student over to his room. When the hour struck for the end of fourth period, the door to Derek's room flipped open.

"Hey, there. It's been a while," welcomed Jeans.

"W...Why now? After months of ignoring everyone? Months of ignoring _me_?" stammered Gabe.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, but you're the only person I could think of who could carry this out for me. It's up to you if you want to help or not, you know."

"If I do this, will you go back to the way you were?"

Jeans held Gabe's hand with his Darth Vader glove. "Yes."

"Tell me."

"I'm sure you know how those jackasses down at the district pulled me over to teach little fuckwad middle schoolers while Olson got the psychology job. I need it back. Badly."

"But how would I be able to do that?"

"Well, Gabe, there's some underground shit that the school doesn't tell you about. We have a little group for handling that stuff."

"The Detention Squad?"

"No. They're just surface level tools. What if I told you there was a period even before period one?"

"What? They're covering up something that big?"

"That's right. There exists a period zero. The Detention Squad was meant to be district level. These people who dwell within period zero handle even deeper shit that people like Spratt don't want anybody outside their little circles finding out."

"So what do you want me to do?"

"I want you to extract some info from one of the members of period zero that I can use against Spratt. In fact, the member I want you to speak to is someone I think you might be familiar with. You might know him as Robert Dunn, a former detentioneer once known by the code name Big Boob."

As Gabe was thinking of ways to track down this elusive blonde man, another confrontation inside of the Cerritos Library had yet to conclude.

"Now, I just need to make sure we got this settled," sighed Shea, "This needs to happen by next week, or else it might be years before we can get what we want."

She stood in the middle of a private room with district guards blocking the entrance as she spoke with both Marchant and a chained up Raymond Ouyang.

"Yeah, I guess. Next week is when those Japs are coming from abroad, right? I might be able to collect enough Asian souls in one place," commented a content Marchant.

"I don't really care about that stuff." Raymond, a Chinaman fresh out of jail, was still feeling discontent with Shea's proposal.

"You want to get revenge on the _four gods of Whitney_ , don't you? Next week is the only time where I can make sure none of those lazy fucks are absent," chided the red head.

"And what about you?" questioned Raymond.

"Personally, I only want the _four gods_ out of the picture so I can put Buss back in power without anybody stopping me."

"Anyway," said Marchant, "so it's just the three of us plus some of these district guards?"

"Oh, no!" chimed in Raymond, "I brought some back up!"

There was a murmur from within the huddle of guards that stopped only when some suspicious figures made their way in through the door. In came Rafferty, Sriram, and Andy.

Raymond sat up and stared at them for a good minute before breaking the silence. "The other two are here, right?"

"These newbies look pretty shit, man," snickered Rafferty as he inched a little to the left. Another two shaking individuals had yet to be introduced to the fray.

"Shoot, I'm not sure about this," stuttered the heir to the Balbido family dojo.

Alongside the little Filipino, Sebastian could only look to the floor as Shea stared him down.

"Then I guess we're all set."

 **TO BE CONTINUED**


	3. Chapter 3

The Detention Squad

HD Remix

Chapter 3

Marchant stood atop the tree next to the south entrance, observing the students as the plan started to flow. "It's finally here," he said aloud, "The day all the five gods are present." Before jumping to the ground, he pulled out his transceiver. "How's it going on your end, Shea?"

The redhead was making her way towards Briquelet's office by herself. "Shit's about to go down soon. Tell Raymond and his gang to head into the Mac Lab and shut off their communications."

Even as Briquelet was recovering from his hangover, he could tell something was off about Shea as she entered his office. "What's up?" he asked with caution.

In a split second, Shea pulled out an engraved fountain pen and held it next to Briquelet's throat. "I'm going to make this simple. I want Buss back. You're in the way. You _will_ agree to a resignation so she can come back to power."

Staring down at the pen being pointed at his throat, Briquelet merely giggled. "It's not that simple, cunt." With mach 5 speed, he clutched the pen before Shea could kneel in any further to cut his skin. "You know, there's a reason they made _me_ the principal of this school." As each word left his mouth, Briquelet inched closer and closer to Shea's face while still holding on to the pen. Suddenly, Briquelet's skin didn't even look like skin anymore. His clothes began to tear as he took on a rocky appearance. His brick-like hand crushed Shea's treasured fountain pen right before he propelled himself forward. With a single thrash, Shea was crushed into the ground. However, her voice still remained intact.

"And there's a reason why Buss made _me_ her right hand employee! It's a shame, really. I don't really like to take on this appearance." RoseEllen's bloody body seemed to dissolve into the air, leaving behind only a cloudy swirl of dust. "Why don't you try punching me now, Briquelet? In fact, I dare you to try to get past me without suffocating."

John nearly shat himself when he realized that hideous cackle was coming from the cloud of dust itself. "You...you're intangible?!"

"That's right! And now the district guards that remained loyal to Buss should be pouring into the school. You and the teachers are done for, John."

As this hopeless battle unfolded, Marchant and Raymond's crew headed in separate directions. Marchant was heading east towards the direction in which the buses would be unloading the Japanese tourists. Raymond and the gang dashed towards the Mac Lab to not only sever the communications, but to hopefully find the five gods of Whitney. Often in times of great peril, it was routine that all of the present gods would gather in the fortified heart of the Mac Lab so they would be furthest from any distraction.

Among the district guards raiding the school was the mayor himself. Mark Pulido gazed proudly at the destruction being inflicted on the school. Unfortunately for him, he did not notice the flash of pink shooting off the southern rooftop and moving towards his face.

The mayor could only groan and press his hands against his bloodied nose while he scowled at the infamous Craig Spratt, fully clothed in his ballet uniform.

"Hey, mayor. Mind telling me what the hell's going on?"

"Y-you assclown! Think I'm going to tell you shit after you just kicked my nose? Whatever, you don't need to worry about it. You're as good as dead. I don't care how strong your teachers and students are, there's way too many district guards that I put up on their asses for them to even have room to move!"

"Nah, I don't need to worry about that. I got some of the best crowd control around." Spratt pulled out his codec specifically made for communicating with The Detention Squad. "I'm just hoping those lazy idiots are outside."

Right as Spratt turned the device on, he twisted his hips and gracefully twirled for a powerful punt that launched Pulido outside the gates of the school. However, his confidence took a slight blow as his eyes met the sight of Raymond running towards the Mac Lab. "Goddamnit. How the hell did he get out?"

With a crash, Raymond busted open the door of the Mac Lab. In front of him was the pillar of light that served as an indication that all the five gods were present. This was meant for intimidation, but the former prisoner was not fazed.

"Well, I don't think they're going to be expecting me!" laughed Raymond.

"Hey," whispered Rafferty in the turtle lord's ear, "I'm pretty sure those guys are trying to follow us." He pointed outside towards a group of four somewhat racially diverse boys.

An annoyed Sriram grabbed Christian and Sebastian by their shoulders. "Make yourselves useful and take care of those guys."

"Wait, uh-"

"No, wait," cut in Andy before Sebastian could muster an excuse. "I'll take care of them."

Raymond nodded in agreement. "Very well. Try to kill them before too long, Andy. Shut off the communication lines when you're done."

"Oh," muttered Andy as he pulled out his staple guns from his backpack, "I will." Andy slowly walked towards The Detention Squad, meeting their confused glances.

The other five headed for the pillar of light in the corridor of the lab that would certainly lead them to another highly fortified dimension. Sebastian and Christian stayed a few steps behind the others to secretly discuss their plan for the aftermath.

"Hey, Seabass. We should have asked to go with Shea when we had the chance," murmured Christian.

"Well, whatever. When all of this is done, she'll have her guard down anyway. That's when we can get rid of that sick, demented witch."

"Wait, I'm not sure if we should really be doing this."

Abruptly, Sebastian stopped walking and slammed Christian against the walls of the corridor. "No, Christian. Listen to me. If you pull out now, I lose my chance at revenge. I need you to work with me for now."

The shifting eyes that stared at Christian shook his soul. These very eyes radiated with absolute bloodlust. It took the demented Sebastian a whole minute before he regained composure.

"Shoot, sorry. My bad. We should catch up." Sebastian made his way forward.

Christian, very much perturbed, slouched as he walked a little behind Sebastian towards the pillar. It seemed the others didn't care much for this little situation.

Outside the lab, Andy stood like a statue while the Detention Squad closed the distance between them. Before any one of them could open their mouths to question what exactly Andy was doing with Raymond, he whipped out both of his staple guns and held them straight.

"Now taste," Andy put his fingers on the triggers, "the revolution."

The guns readily fired in spurts, raining a sharp hell towards all four present members of the squad.

Only milliseconds before the projectiles would have pierced their skins, Jesus whipped out his trusty copy of Smash to shift into Flaco attire. His shine was enough to repel nearly all of the staples while the rest of the squad ducked and rolled to a place where each of them were only a couple feet away from Andy.

Noah stepped forward and prepared his tennis racket for a strike. "What the hell, Andy? Explain yourself!"

Brayan and Jay inched a little closer to ensure Andy's cooperation.

"I don't know why you're so surprised at me working for Raymond," chortled Andy, "I'm not any different than I was two years ago. Really."

Jesus slowly closed in from the center, blaster prepared. "I'm disgusted, to be honest. I never took you for a two-faced bastard."

His scowl did not do much to stop Andy's light laughter. "Well, Jesus, that's because you've never truly understood me. In fact, none of you ever took the time to grasp who I really am."

With terrifying agility, Andy broke through the circle that the Detention Squad had formed around him. The blast of wind he left behind was almost asphyxiating.

"You guys were always too busy mocking my lack of strength to notice _this_. Anyway, it's

too late for you now. If you insist on fighting Raymond, then you need to fight me too, you know." This time, Andy pulled out a crossbow made from pencils and rubber bands. "Because if you want to stop Raymond, then that means you want to stop the revolution."

 **TO BE CONTINUED**


	4. Chapter 4

The Detention Squad

HD Remix

Chapter 4

The crossbow that Andy pulled out fired a lot quicker than you would think. The pencil zoomed straight past Brayan and Noah while just missing Jesus' trusty console. The Indian stood directly in the pencil's path, hoping to cast his bush growth spell and use the hairs to flip the pencil around. However, it just shot past the hair extension and pierced a hole in Jay's left shin.

"Heh, you guys are just too slow," cackled Andy with his koala face.

"Hey, guys," whispered a bruised Brayan off to the side, "I have something that should work. Just distract that nerd for a second."

Noah readied his tennis racket as Jesus went Captain Falcon mode. They centered towards Andy so they wouldn't notice Brayan's slight retreat next to Jay.

"Hah! I guess things have really changed since I left. Tennis is literally the shittest sport. Are you trying to scare me or something with that gay racket?" This time, Andy stashed away his crossbow and rolled up his sleeves to reveal metal holsters that clamped one piece of paper on each hand.

"Oh, you haven't seen," Noah threw his ball in the air, "tennis like this."

Andy inched forward as soon as the the ball made contact with Noah's racket. However, the ball seemed to be constantly ricocheting off of all the surfaces around them. It gained enough speed to bounce from their current location to the Mac Lab and all the way back in split second.

"My ricochet ball-"

Well, the technique was pretty short lived. Andy had already sliced up the ball before Noah had a chance to finish his sentence.

"You...with paper? How the fuck!?"

"It's really no big deal, Noah. My hands move fast enough for me to slice your shit up with almost anything."

"Slice this, you cocky prick," Jesus chimed in. The blazing falcon punch had already landed by the time Andy realized he got a little too distracted with Noah. "I'm done with you. Anything we had or could have had is gone."

The punch from Jesus was enough to send Andy flying a good five meters in the air before crashing back into the pavement and breaking his round glasses.

"That enough for you to get ready, Brayan?" asked Jesus as he was recharging.

Brayan answered with an ape like shout. What he was preparing was a Gordillo family technique passed down for generations. Its name was…

" _¡Cambio radical!_ " What came with Brayan's shout was a bizarre transformation. Nearly all the muscle mass from Brayan's upper body was transferred to his legs. With a confident smile, Brayan's newly toned feet kicked off. The sight of this man with now an almost lifeless upper body and a monstrously muscular lower half gleamed in front of the sun.

As Brayan reached the maximum height of his jump, his body once again began to change shape. Now, all the muscle mass was transferred to his arms. He then curved into a dive towards the location where Andy lay injured.

"Andy, you _saco de mierda,_ you should have stayed in Los Al! Now I'm going to send you straight to hell."

The force of Brayan's transformed fists making contact shook nearly the entire vicinity. The crushed pavement around them looked like it had been subject to a meteor strike.

Jesus, Noah, and Jay all walked towards the sight of the attack while Brayan's body reverted back to normal.

However, when they got there, the blood they saw was not that of Andy. The speedster stood behind Brayan with a broken grin. Brayan continued to bleed from his back where Andy's paper had cut him.

"You really think I would be slow enough to not dodge that?" Andy merely shrugged off some of the rubble on him and delivered yet another slash to Brayan; this time on the stomach. Brayan was much too exhausted to make out even a yell.

Jesus, too, was struck down with a swift paper cut before he could even grab his copy of Smash.

"You bastard! Just fucking die already!" screamed Noah in a fit of rage. This time, he didn't even bother grabbing a ball. He rushed towards Andy with just a swinging racket.

"Stupid. You can't hope to beat me in melee combat." Andy's swipe not only diced the racket, but it managed to gouge Noah's shoulders as well.

Both Noah and Jesus fell to the floor, clutching the areas where Andy had damaged their arteries.

Behind Andy came what appeared to be a rope of black fuzz that was aimed at his neck.

Andy was expecting this to be another simple object to cut, but the hair snapped upwards and wrapped around his face.

"This is how much I've grown since the last time we've met, Andy," spoke Jay from behind. Even now, he was getting some Spanish class flashbacks.

Andy was going to cut the hair wrapped around his face to prevent suffocation, but another stream wrapped around and numbed his limbs before he could make a move.

"Read," said Jay.

After a few seconds, Andy seemed to have stopped struggling and was simply dangling on the hair Jay had conjured. But, of course, this was merely a ruse to loosen the grip at least a tiny bit. In a surprising act of grit, Andy bit and tore his way out of the entanglement on his face.

The super Asian smiled to reveal the razor sharp braces on his teeth.

"Holy shit," gasped Jay, "You still have braces?"

"I kept them and sort of modified them specifically for a situation like this. They're pretty uncomfortable to use, though." It wasn't hard for Andy to undo the rest after getting his mouth free. "Why don't you just make this easier for me and stand still while I give you a nice paper cut?"

Any options Jay could have for a plan of defense would probably be impossible to execute quick enough, anyways. He stood anticipating a sharp strike with his eyes closed. In the midst of this wait, not a single slice was heard. However, what did meet the ears was a deafeningly loud thud.

When Jay opened his eyes, he saw a figure unseen for many months. The beanie sporting boy with a Cerritos High School shirt stood atop a nearby table, holding a green tinted skateboard with various dicks drawn across it.

No, that thing was too large to be called a skateboard. Too big, too thick, too heavy, and too rough. It was more like a large hunk of aluminum and nylon. Either way, the man that had just smacked Andy on the head with a "skateboard" finally turned around.

"Guess you fucks can't make it without me."

"Holy shit," murmured Jay, still limping from the pencil shot.

"It's been a while, Shmay. The fifth member of your squad has returned right in front of you. And just in time, I guess."

Clark Durias ollied off the table and stared down at a slightly breathing Andy.

"The fuck is this guy doing out of Los Al?"

Just then, Clark felt something grabbed on to his leg. "And what the hell are you," growled Andy, "doing out of Cerritos?"

Clark's skateboard maneuver broke him free of Andy's grasp before he got stabbed with some paper.

"Of course!" exclaimed Jay, "Clark, you're the only guy here that can match his speed."

"Whatever! These Filipinos break like twigs. Besides, you aren't even a real Asian," chided Andy.

Clark was generally ashamed of his heritage, so this comment had little effect. What did put him on edge, however, was the pencil that was fired from Andy's crossbow which had once again been pulled out of his bag. Clark had kickflipped up in the air to dodge it, but, unfortunately for him, he went up a little too high.

"Can't dodge in the air, can you?" laughed Andy as he fired another shot.

"You're out of the loop, homeslice." Much to Andy's surprise, Clark had managed to kick off of the air itself to strafe and dodge the pencil.

"What the fuck?" Andy could only mutter and grit his teeth, as he realized there was no chance of him hitting Clark.

"I was trained by the Daniel himself. You're done, kid." With a slight swerve, Clark's skateboard crashed into Andy's skull with lightning speed.

With this final attack, the sky began to turn dark and it drizzled over the school. However, the water on Andy's face did not come from the sky.

"Ray...mond. I couldn't…,"

Andy's words stood unheard while Clark and Jay walked towards their fellow Detentioneers. They still needed to plan their next course of action, because, of course, the battle between the Briquelet and Buss factions still had not concluded. The passing eyes were drawn towards the Mac Lab, where a beam of light pierced its ceiling and shot up to the sky.

 **TO BE CONTINUED**


	5. Chapter 5

The Detention Squad

HD Remix

Chapter 5

"Man, I expected to wipe this info from zero period all over Spratt's face. Guess I was too late."

A fully cloaked Mr. Jeans walked in through the cage entrance from the southern end of the school. With the help of Gabe and Roob the Boob, he had gained numerous accounts of Spratt's pedophilic endeavors. However, it turned out that shitting on Spratt would have to wait, as the dean was too busy kicking away district guards with a five o'clock shadow on his pink frosted legs.

Apart from that unsightly view, Jeans' eyes came across the injured bodies of three detentioneers on the black top and two others standing in front of the fighters.

"Wake the hell up, you spic!" yelled Clark with tears in his eyes, "I'm supposed to be the one to kill you!"

Unfortunately, Brayan could only manage a few groans every now and then as blood trickled out of the wound on his stomach. Clark only ceased his tears when he noticed a shadow looming over the spot where Jesus was knocked out. Ignoring both the Indian boy and Andy's corpse, the cloaked man came closer to Clark.

Clark did a meek wave as he recognized the figure as Mr. Jeans. Much to the Filipino boy's surprise, Jeans stopped in his tracks to stare at Clark for a good thirty seconds before opening his mouth.

"I don't see a visitor sticker," commented Derek.

Clark raised his eyebrows in confusion. "What?"

"You didn't even sign in through the office, did you?"

"What are you-"

"Get off campus! This is how school shootings happen!"

Jeans brandished his pale blue lightsaber as he inched towards Clark. The poor kid could only make a pouty face as he remained ignorant of the proper visitation process. Luckily, a weak voice called out for Jeans to stop his madness just in time.

"Mr. Jeans...I got something you might be interested in."

It was Jesus. It seemed he had woken up and resumed clutching the spot on his body where Andy unleashed a deadly paper cut.

"Whoop, there's the problem child!" neighed a now happy Jeans Jeans with his literal cancer voice. It seemed he had taken a liking to the boy, as Jesus had bested his Rosenberg-tier tests. He was like a memento that served as a reminder to the glory days of when Jeans taught psychology.

"Hey," began Jesus, "Remember Breik?"

Jeans licked his chops in interest. "Well of course."

"Turns out the breast cancer made her gain an extra fifty pounds. She's...here right now." This was, of course, the exact opposite of the truth, but it was the only story within the realm of both fiction and nonfiction that would pique Mr. Jeans' interest.

Jeans could not control himself upon hearing this. "Well, uh, turns out I need to see her to copy some...stuff. A real shame she had to visit us during Buss' insurrection, eh? Could you just point me to where she is?"

"Well," muttered Jesus through his hacks and coughs, "I could tell you after you heal all our injuries."

Chubby chaser Jeans was still drooling in excitement, but this request shook him up a little. To think the mighty civics guru would have to make a deal with a student as if they were equals.

"Damnit, Jesus…"

Jeans was putting all his brain power to sort out both his pride and his desire to see the shining star of the math department. It was only after an agonizing three minutes that Jeans came to a conclusion.

"Fine, kid. Just know I'm not going to owe you anything after this for like a year. Doesn't matter what you do for me later. Make sure you don't misunderstand the gravity of our deal." Derek Jeans inched a little closer to the bodies of the three detentioneers on the ground after shoving aside Clark and Jay. He took his right hand out from his cloak and closed the wounds of the three boys through his mastery of the force.

"Uh, thanks," said Jesus reluctantly, "but the other two are still alive, right?"

Jeans noticed the pool of blood underneath Noah and Brayan. Being the genius that he is, he realized simply closing their wounds probably wasn't enough. Jeans bent down and scooped the blood from beneath their bodies into his hands and proceeded to pour it down Brayan and Noah's throats to remedy their blood loss.

Jesus looked at this procedure in dismay. "Wait, I don't think that'll-"

"You miss all the shots you don't take," interrupted Jeans.

It turned out he really was a man of many talents, as the two boys' pulses began to boom

once again only seconds after the treatment.

"Now take me to her," demanded Jeans.

While Jesus was racking his brain to think of a way out of this terrible situation, Raymond and his crew were navigating the haven above the pillar of light. This dimension greeted them with a burst of pale smoke. As this fog cleared, the crew saw that they were standing on what seemed to be a sheet of golden clouds. Straight across from Raymond's gang was the holy coalition. The five gods of Whitney were seated on what seemed to be oversized Grace Hu theater chairs. The chairs themselves were floating and rotating very slowly in an elliptical pattern. They stared menacingly at the intruders.

Donna Hall, Rod Ziolkowski, Patty Cordova, Steve Rosenberg, and Price Sposa were seated without any look of surprise on their face at all.

The first one to stand up was Patty. After getting off her seat, she fell gracefully down to the cloud platform as she looked from Sebastian to Raymond.

While Rafferty brandished his katar knife behind Sriram, Cordova inched ever closer.

"Mkay, guys," said the docile Patty, "I might have to put you back in prison."

This style of speech was all too familiar to Raymond. His silent rage could be felt by all of his peers.

"You, uh," started Sriram, "you want our help?"

"...No."

His voice was at an extreme where his emotions did not need to agree with his facial expression. Sriram signaled for Christian and Sebastian to sit back and watch as Raymond met Cordova's forward stride.

"What an annoyance you are," murmured Raymond.

With a sudden burst of speed, the Whitney god of math and the god of turtles met each other in a blitz.

Sriram was already immersed in this clash. "She's already optimized her speed…"

Rafferty met this with a nod and a chuckle.

Raymond was the first to throw a punch. His spinning throttle sent a burst of air that the other four gods sitting a few meters could feel. The direct impact, however, did not seem to meet Cordova as planned.

Raymond suddenly pulled back as if perturbed at this lack of a smash. A few seconds later, Raymond dived in again, but Cordova did not bother moving at all this time. The punch seemed to be touching her face but there was no shockwave at all.

"Shoot, what's going on?" wondered a confused Balbido.

"Look closer." The direction in which Sriram pointed seemed to show nothing in value at first. But upon further observation…

"I've already set up asymptotes all around me," proclaimed a proud Patty, "Your fist will just keep getting closer and closer as long as you push it forward. Not going to do you any good if it doesn't land, though."

Sebastian already started sweating due to the intensity at which Raymond was propelling himself at Cordova. "How the hell is he going to get around this?" he queried as his throat got drier and drier.

Sriram merely laughed and put his arms on Sebastian's shoulder. He whispered in the newbie's ear, "Do you believe in miracles?"

 **TO BE CONTINUED**


End file.
